Blood Polished Arrows
by Gale's-mine-ONLY
Summary: The Greek goddess, Artemis, is involved in this new horror about the duaghter she was never supposed to have. Yes it's a romantic and yes Percy is in it! Read at your own expense...
1. Pain

"_Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.__" –Lance Armstrong_

The night is filled with my screaming. Every time the knife punctures my skin, excruciating pain fills my veins. Every wail that escapes my lips, every time his hand smacks the side of my head I'm left hazy. Finally he casts me aside, grabs my neck and shoves my head into the ground. A giant centipede, crawls over my arms. But when I try screaming, I only feel pain where my heart is.

There isn't enough air in the world.

Blood runs through my eyes and shadows dance against the flames of fire. I don't know who he is, but the man keeps whispering something about my mother. The grip loosens around my swollen throat, and I can't get enough oxygen into my lungs. The only thing I see is blood, in my eyes, washed over my clothes, seeping from the wounds in my stomach and forehead, I taste it flowing from my nose.

He makes a noose out of rope, the man with the long beard, and dangles it in front of my eyes. I whimper softly, with tears streaming down my face as he touches my cheek very delicately. "Prove to me your life, girl." He says slowly. There are bats fluttering everywhere, crashing into everything, filling the night sky. Then the words sink in.

I try and free myself from his grip, but he slaps the side of my face. I skid away a few feet, and my stomach seems to explode in agony. Helpless, I begin to sob and wail. He walks over quickly, and kicks my shoulders, my head, punches my stomach. My stomach. Blood is everywhere and the knife wounds feel as if the blade was still in my frozen body. I can hear my heart beat in my ears. When he kicks the side of my head, I begin jerking. When he kicks my cheek, I hear the creak of my jaw and a tooth wriggles free. I'm drowning in my own blood and fear.

A red mark burns as powerful as any grease spill against my skin. The burning, as if fire is crawling over my face, causes uncontrollable screaming. It's odd, I can almost hear the sizzle of burning flesh and smell the acrid stench of burnt rubber. His sandals reek of this and blood as they crunch my ribs. I begin to thrash around as he advances on me again, through a haze of opiates he appears to be wearing a dress, but everything in my head silences as he slips my neck into the noose.

Have a good day! Please review!


	2. White

"_The good times of today are the sad thoughts of tomorrow." ― Bob Marley _

In the midst of our lives and our wants, we lose sight of our needs. The nurses who visit me every hour always talk to me about their families' lives, but why do they think that'll cheer me up? Half the time I just stare at her hands. They bear no scars like mine. With every simple movement of their fingers I glance at mine and wince. Sometimes I look down and see moths fluttering around or a mouse scuffling across my fingertips. But my hands don't work to shoo them away.

I cannot move. I cannot see any colors. All I see is white; white walls, white floor, white curtain, white rug, white everything.

Somehow my attacker found a way to damage my spinal cord. And the smallest movements trigger pain, or simply; cannot be done.

I had been found sometime in the night alongside a highway. I clearly do not remember this, but the couple that found me bound by the wrists and slumped over in a pool of my own blood certainly do. They've come twice now, why I cannot tell, but I manage a smile when they do. They're tiny elderly people that cling to their canes and walkers and laugh at everything you say. The woman said their name was the Parson's. Mr. Parson claimed I had a bandage wrapped around my stomach and neck, but what difference does it make I haven't the slightest. Everything is numb.

While one nurse lets me sip broth from a spoon, another reads me a list of symptoms from the pills she's about to give me. I agree even though one symptom states it's easy to get infection, but I want to feel my body again so I go for it. While she pops them into my mouth, a young girl steps in. She's wearing a vampire cape, plastic teeth, and her face is covered in pale powder. She couldn't be any older than six.

No one notices her.

"Um, who's- who's that?" I ask softly. The little girl smiles at me through a grin of pointed teeth, and the nurses exchange glances.

"Excuse me?" One asks. I try and raise my arm, but it feels as if nothing is there.

I watch her closely as she skips around, tapping one nurse on the shoulder, doing a cartwheel, and whispering things. Then I notice the blood dripping from her plastic fangs. It stains the white floral shirt under her cape. Through my hysterical screams, she smiles. And picks up a syringe on the bedside table, then traces something on my arm.

But when the door opens, she crawls down behind the table and disappears. As quickly as she comes, she leaves. And this time, a teenage girl wanders in. When I see her speaking to a nurse, my heart leaps. She must be someone important, maybe who can tell me who I am. She lays a hand on my lap, and shows a weak smile.

"Hey," she says. "I know you don't remember me, but I came here to bring you home. Would you like to go home?"

I swallow the excitement. "Yes."

"Good, we've been missing you. Do you remember your name?" The girl ponders. Judging by her size, she looks to be maybe around my age. I've been told I'm around sixteen, she appears to be similar. She wears a curly blonde ponytail, and a sweatshirt over an orange t-shirt.

I shake my head.

"You're name is Sylvan Brownlee, and mine is Annabeth."


	3. Meeting Chiron

"_The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will." -__Vince Lombardi_

Since my arrival at Camp Half-Blood, I've been offered more grape juice than information. Annabeth left after she introduced me to Chiron, the board director. He too, is wheel-chair bound. Or so I thought until I overhead some kids asking why he was in a wheelchair. He's in it only to make me feel better.

When he asks for the syringe, I stare at him with such fury. It's rather easy to sneak a syringe out from the hospital, especially in a handbag. He doesn't bother to argue, he just holds out his hand and waits. But then it must register in his mind that I can't grab it.

He lets it go.

"I know it's frustrating right now for you, but we're going to make it work," he says.

If my body hadn't been absent I might've gotten up and run away at this point. My eyes begin tearing up at the memory of being pinned against the ground, and the attacker slowly letting a blade sink into my skin. And the burning, and lack of air, and the rope… "You can't help me."

Chiron shifts a little. "Why not?" Now he's watching me closer, trying to be softer.

"I can't go ten minutes without wondering if I'm still internally bleeding, but I can't tell. I don't know who my friends or family are, no one claimed me, I don't even know my middle name!" I begin to realize what could happen. Adoption, dying alone, or bleeding internally without knowing. I pause. "I need to see a mirror."

He goes to say something, and then pauses at my request. "Yeah sure."

Chiron has a girl wheel me into the nearest bathroom. She doesn't say a thing, or even look at me; she just closes the door behind me and leaves.

I can't reach the mirror.

At my summon, the girl comes back in, a frown cast across her face as she lifts me up and adjusts the wheelchair. Her hair is tangled, uneven and tiny braids hang loosely from all sides. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes filled with hate. The girl looks worn down and beaten, yet ready to beat another.

Trying to make small talk, I ask what her name is. "Why do you care?" She hisses. And with a slam, the door separates us again.

I look in the mirror, where I see a bat fly by overhead. My reflection seems new, and I don't even recognize my own reflection. A silvery-white braid hangs down one shoulder. My eyes are a pale blue with a silver hue, and my skin is rather calm looking. Pale. But it looks natural.

I realize though the girl in the mirror is Sylvan Brownlee, I know not who that is except for a name. There's no personality behind me, no memories, no family, nothing. And I hate myself for it. There's a knife on the counter, beside a tube of mint-smelling paste I can't recall. Suddenly I can move my arm enough to reach for the hilt of the blade. There's a cut through the tube, as if someone had to open it. With closed eyes and a fast heartbeat, I draw the blade against my wrist. And I feel temporarily peaceful, though pain runs yet again through my veins.


	4. A Victim

"_People living deeply have no fear of death." -__Anais Nin_

The cut is raw and painful. Blood drips into the sink and to hide it I let the sink run and wash the red away. The feeling of my arms and legs is overwhelming, but the warm tingling feeling ceases as the blood continues to flow.

Once again there isn't another part of me besides my jaw.

It's peculiar until I think about making a second cut, then my arms seem to grow. A second cut is made above my forearm, and that same relaxing motion overcomes me. Horrible thoughts cloud my mind, dark swirls, piles of bones and blood seeping from everything. Dead corpses are strewn across the stone corridor, and I lose myself.

My feet feel the ground briefly as a figure looms from the shadows. Glowing red eyes and dark skin camouflage him perfectly. I recognize his face. Death.

I look again into the mirror. Everything is changing far too rapidly and before I know it, my arms lose their grip and I crash onto the tile. Blood splatters the clean surface and my fingers crumple under the weight of my wheelchair.

There's shouting and giant figures loom over me, but everything is blurry and my skin is bubbling and blistering. Pain shoots up through my arm, and the blood coats my clothes in thick mats. Someone looms over me, a blonde haired girl, and a little vampire-girl sinks her plastic fangs into my bare flesh. I realize too late Annabeth is touching my temples and trying to, it appears, to bite me.

My screaming is silenced when I reopen my eyes to an empty bathroom. Blood is everywhere, splattered on the mirror, pooling on the floor, and slicked over my skin. All feeling is gone from my body. Except the agony is realistic this time, and my stomach bubbling with horrid spasms. This time though, it's clear I am screaming.

But Annabeth doesn't come. Instead the girl with dark choppy hair enters the bathroom and closes the door behind her. She kneels down beside and reaches for my arm, but when she grabs it, she digs her nails in and smiles.

"You don't know how long we've been waiting for you to show up," she whispers. Her hand raises above her head and balls into a fist. I don't have time to prepare myself before her knuckles are pounding against my temple, but she gags me with a bandana before the pain escapes my mouth. This is repeated twice before she pauses.

"Piper! Piper!" I think it's Chiron. There's a different sound to his footsteps though, almost like a chanting of hooves. Piper sits me back into the wheelchair and pulls my head back. She pours thick goo down my throat and ties the bandana over my forehead. My cuts and swelling evaporate.

Piper grabs the handles of wheelchair and rolls me down the hall to where a horse stands. Which turns out to be Chiron. "Piper, what was that?"

She doesn't even flinch. "She fell."

I swallow hard, everything still mingling together. The darkness, the blood, the reforming scenes after every hurt…this is a hunt, a game. And I am the victim.


	5. On the Verge

"_Parents often talk about the younger generation as if they didn't have anything to do with it." -Haim Ginott_

I can't stand myself anymore. The little farmhouse that normally serves as a meeting place, has become my home. A small room with a narrow pair of windows, a dresser crammed in the corner, and a small nightstand that holds an alarm clock, serve as my makeshift den. There's nothing else to do except stare out the window, have Chiron take me outside, or make cuts on my arms.

When I hold the knife, I feel restored and balanced. As I do this single act I feel pain and move my own arms. It's all I can ask for anymore.

Only two days ago I came here. Since then I've taken punches from Piper and everyone who comes in here shoots me dangerous looks. Sometimes even Chiron ignores me, or leaves me alone for several hours before wheeling me into the mini- kitchen.

This was never my home. Nor is it now.

My life is all lies.

On the third day of being crammed in this place, I'm carried outside by a pair of boys and dumped onto the ground in the woods. Thorns curl around my fingers and ankles. Sunshine isn't anywhere to be found. There's nothing I can concentrate on except my heartbeat racing and the wind howling.

Three more kids emerge. Piper is among them, along with the twins that brought me here, a short boy with curly brown hair and baggy clothes, and…a goat.

"Piper, if Jason found out…" The shorter boy starts. But Piper waves away his remark.

Piper rests a hand on her hip. "He won't find out. Leo, where's Annabeth?" She doesn't even glance his way, Piper just looks me over. The twins are snickering and Leo just shuffles around in the mud.

There's a spark of hope that blooms inside my chest. Annabeth can't be here, she's the only person I trusted and she hasn't been there for me in the slightest. A sweat breaks out on my forehead. My head begins spinning as I recall waking with such great pains after the attack…

There's a rustling of leaves and Annabeth appears. She's grumbling to herself as she crashes through some bushes. Annabeth goes straight for the goat and points her dagger under his chin. She's shaking terribly, and everyone falls silent.

She swallows hard. "What are you _doing _here? Gods, Grover! Your life can be spared, you can go back to your home, to your girl…" She starts choking and backs away from the goat. Annabeth kicks a rock aside and strips leaves from their branches before stopping right beside me. Her breathing is irregular and her eyes are wild.

She bursts out screaming. "What have you done to us? You leave us like this, and-and-and starve us!" Annabeth starts pacing now, glancing back at me and the surrounding campers. "Because of _her,_ we have to die! No…this is Artemis's burden to bear!"

One of the twins breaks out in a grin. "We need to get through to her, Annabeth. How can we torture the goddess herself?"

Piper crosses her arms over her chest. I begin to tremble. I'm crumpled on top of the ground with no feeling below my shoulders, and my mouth is dry and my limbs are deathly cold.

I see Death's face appear from behind a tree and stalk Annabeth with graceful strides. I begin to watch in a torturous awe as he is replaced by the vampire girl. Her plastic teeth bare human flesh now. Whimpers of my own accord come unwillingly to my chapped lips.

They all watch in horror as I suddenly move for a steak sticking out of the ground. I come to my feet and yank it from the earth to drive it into my foot. It goes straight through my foot, blood colors the ground beneath me, but that feeling of controlling my own self has its rewards.

Finally Annabeth looks to Piper with a scowl. "This is the girl we're dying from and she's taking her own life."


End file.
